Worth Coming Home For

It had been a long and frustrating day, nothing had gone right and I was glad to be heading home. I live alone in an apartment in a big old house. There were two other tenants, both female, one on either side of me, I was in the middle apartment. We each had a living room, a kitchen, a large bedroom and a bathroom. I valued the privacy of having my own bathroom. I had friends who lived like I do but had to share a common bathroom.

I arrived home at 6 PM. I was hungry but another need in me overshadowed that, I needed sexual release. I have to masturbate every day, most days twice, morning and evening, sometimes when I went to bed as well so that was three times, but most days twice was enough.

I off-loaded my bag and coat and walked into the bedroom. This was my favourite place. I kept it spotlessly clean and I had a sexy perfume wafting out of one of those plug-in things. My erection started to come even before I had begun to undress, by the time I was naked it was standing there hard and stiff, pressing against my stomach.

I looked down at this strange, sometimes awe-inspiring part of my male body, twitching involuntarily and throbbing to the beat of my pulse. It wasn't big, nothing like some of those gross, indecent things that you sometimes see in porn movies. It's five and a half inches long and about as thick as a banana, not circumcised  and with a full foreskin. How is it possible that this part of my body, a part that is hidden from view for most of the time, can give me such intense feelings of pleasure. So intense that they can override my will at times and force me to seek solitude urgently so that I can satisfy my longing for them.

Now was such a time and I sank naked into the semi-soft mattress on the bed. While I was standing there had been a drop of pre-cum oozing out of the tip, slowly descending to the floor, ready to break off and be replaced by another, but before it could do that I caught it in the palm of my hand and now on the bed I smeared it around my engorged shaft.

Oh what sweet ecstasy. As I moved my hand slowly up and down I never failed to wonder at the sort of rapture that this action gave to me. However many times I had masturbated it surprised me every time, such a lovely feeling and yet so demanding, it's as if my penis has it's own agenda and it won't be ignored.

I felt the first stirrings of what was to come. A light tingle starting in my toes. I knew that at this point I was allowed to choose to go on or to stop. If I stopped the tingle would fade and then when I started again it would be a little bit stronger. Sometimes when I feel a bit more in control I do that several times and when my climax finally comes it is almost agony, but an exquisite agony that I never want to stop.

This time though I wanted that thrill so badly. I stopped the first time I felt the tingle but I had to begin again a few seconds later and this time I didn't stop. Spreading up my lower legs now, making me squirm a bit, then into my thighs. My left hand stroking quickly up and down, up and down. I'm going to explode and I take a deep breath and hold it to try to avoid crying out because I know that my next-door neighbours were only the thickness of a wall away. But it was too much, too strong. My held breath expelled itself followed by a loud cry of bliss. The pulses of tingling were shaking me like a doll and I just gave myself up to the pleasure of the moment, inarticulate little cries escaping like the spurts of semen shooting out of my rod.

Then with a final thrust it was over. Ebbing away and leaving me gasping for breath. I keep on rubbing, trying to make it go on but I can't and after a few seconds I stop and release my grip. Almost immediately that which had been so powerful starts to shrink and come down from the vertical like a felled tree. Many times at this point of the proceedings I had tried to keep it hard, rubbing frantically, hoping that the friction will make it go hard again but it doesn't, it just continues to shrink until there is nothing left to rub anymore.

If I lie here on the bed, not touching it, just watching the now small bud that was the power a few minutes ago, it will stir again. It will be slow at first. A little twitch then an attempt to raise itself up from between my legs where it has been lying. But it will take between fifteen and thirty minutes before it happens. Once it starts to happen it will be quick. It's awe inspiring to watch it fill and rise up, standing proud again and waiting to take control of this frail human body.

The second time is different. Not as much urgency and more time to 'be there'. To watch my hand moving up and down. To wonder with a kind of awe at the sensations the movement is creating in me at this moment, and the inevitability of what is to come if it continues. The strangeness of the orgasm, the uncertainty of what it will be like. It could come with the sudden sharpness of a dagger piercing my body, making me cry out as if in pain for it is a kind of pain, or it could start slowly. A faint tingle in my toes at first then spreading up my body, building in intensity as it spreads. I love this kind of culmination because it is so complete. When after maybe five seconds it reaches my penis it's as if an electric charge is spreading through my whole body, shaking it and forcing inarticulate sounds from my lips. I watch the semen flying into the air in intense spurts that fade in volume but not in velocity.

I love this daily ritual. It is something wonderful in an otherwise boring existence, something to look forward to during the humdrum day. I sometimes think of how much better it would be if I was sharing it with a female. I dread to think that my desire for it may decrease as I get older. I know older men who still have as much sex drive as they always did, but I also know some who don't, to whom this intense pleasure is a distant memory. I must make the most of the present! that is the answer.